Jazz is a Bitch
by Viskey HeroMouse
Summary: Frankie keeps a Diary ... In it he puts down his thoughts on the Team and wonders just why Murdock doesn't like him.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own the A-Team and I don't make any profit with my writing. Shame though, cause I could do with a little profit.

And for anyone who hasn't guessed it from the summary: This is in Frankie's POV.

The story was beta-read, any mistake remaining is mine and mine alone. Don't you dare keep one of 'em, or I'll have to sic BA on you ...

And, especially for my favourite Kitten: There's some Murdock in here, and there'll be more of him ...

* * *

 _BA's here... tinkering with something that has an awful lot of wires sticking out of it. I'm far from unfamiliar with electronics – as a matter of fact, I've always prided myself on being pretty good at it, but... What that man's doing sometimes is just over my head. Then again, we're working in different fields. He's doing bugs and trackers. Me, I'm doing remotes for explosives, mostly. So there is a slight difference... Ah hell, who am I trying to kid? The man's better than I am. Period._

 _It stings to admit it, even just to myself. Sometimes I wonder what he thinks of me. But the longer I know him, the more I come to the conclusion, that he doesn't at all. I don't think that's the way his mind works. He's not stupid, far from it. But he doesn't think too much about things, least of all things he can't change. And as it is, I'm stuck with those guys, and they with me. He knows that, so... Oh, well I don't know for sure, but I don't think he wastes a trifle thought on me. He's too practical for that._

 _Johnny on the other hand... he's left for the kitchen a while ago. Going to cook up something. Now, I don't know who the hell gave the man the idea he's a good cook. He just isn't. He thinks "getting creative with ingredients" means experimenting wildly, and throwing lots of stuff, he has no idea of what it really is, into a bowl and then shove it all into the oven. Really, if he planned the way he cooks... hang on, he does. The only weird thing is, with the planning, it works. He's pulling the strangest ideas from out of thin air, smashes them together and the plan's ready. I mean, I've always known that man has a screw loose, claiming to base his Aquaman on Hamlet... I used to think it was pretence, one of those unhinged ticks actors develop over the years. I mean, really! Aquaman and Hamlet! But the crack is, Johnny really meant it. He was always saying it with a grin and a crazy glint in his eyes, but deep down, he always meant it. The man's just crazy. Crazier than even Murdock on a level._

 _Oh, they're all crazy in their own way. I don't think they could even stand each other if they weren't. Not to speak of being friends and working together the way they are. They are the bloody A-Team, after all!_

 _Take Murdock, for example. The man... I don't know, he gives me the creeps. He's so crazy at one moment, talking about when he was eating shaving cream. – And he's not just talking about it, I have no doubt he actually did it. That and other things. He just_ _ **is**_ _crazy. So he's giving me that the one moment, and the next he's about to blow your head off. Okay, not exactly mine, which I'm terribly thankful for. I mean, it's no big secret that he doesn't like me. I think he's got the stupid idea I want to snatch his friends from him. Like that was possible at all! They couldn't be any closer if they were welded together! No matter, I still get the shivers when I think back to that day in the courthouse. How he stressed that they were_ _ **his**_ _friends, not_ _ **ours**_ _. I swear, my heart plummeted into my pants and I had a hard time not ending up smelly... shit my pants, that means. I guess all four of them can become dangerous, I mean really dangerous, on a personal level. But I think only Murdock can become ruthless. I think he's a bit paranoid about me getting between him and the others. Okay, Murdock doesn't have anybody but them, but that goes for the rest of them as well._

 _BA is a riddle. Doesn't seem like anybody's close to him. Doesn't seem like he'd want anybody close to him. Except the team, maybe. But I'm not even sure about that. He likes them, no doubt, but I think he could do just as well without them. He's a self-sufficient man if I ever saw one._

 _With Johnny, I don't really know, he's always been a very private person, almost paranoidly private. – Is there a word like paranoidly? There should be. But of course I know now why. He's been in this business for fifteen years or something, on the run from the authorities and with the responsibility of being the team leader. No wonder he got a bit paranoid over the time._

 _And Face, he's an orphan, for heaven's sake! If he can get along with me, why not Murdock?_

 _Maybe it's really because Face likes me. I really think he does. I don't quite see why, but he obviously does. We spend time together. It can't be because we both love to socialise with pretty ladies. That's not a basis to build any kind of relationship on. I'm not sure what Face and I have, but it's definitely some sort of a relationship. Not a friendship. That could never be, I'm not in his league. We both know that. And, while being brutally honest with myself, I can admit it: We never will be in the same league, not even remotely. So, probably not friends but close acquaintances... If there is a thing like that._

 _I know I lack their class, it's a small miracle they drag me along. It can't be Stockwell. He was the initiator, I'd never be where I am now if it hadn't been for him. But if they couldn't work with me, they would have gotten rid of me, one way or the other. So, I guess I can take some pride in myself. I'm good enough to tag along. (Grinning stupidly to myself... hoping BA doesn't see it and grunt at me.) He does a great job at intimidating people. And although I know him pretty well by now, and know that he won't hurt me – not seriously, anyway – I still feel a bit queasy around him, especially when he gets that look._

 _It's almost two months since that disastrous trial, and I still have problems seeing the guys for what they are, especially Johnny. My God, he's been Johnny Smith, impersonator of D-movie film-monsters. I've known him for about four years, he's always been fun to hang around with. And then suddenly – WHAM! – they tell me, he's the head of the infamous A-Team. For a while, there've been ambitions in the business to turn the A-Team story into a film. Get the irony? Johnny knew about those ambitions. He could have made a fortune, but... God, I remember, he even once took part in a conversation we had about that. I was saying something like I'd want to work on that film, because they'd need a good F/X-man for all the bullets and explosions. And now – more irony! – I work not for the film, but the actual Team. Isn't that total madness? Back then, Johnny, very calmly and casually, said something like: "You'd get bored. It's always the same all over. Bullet-holes in furniture. Where's the fun in that?" I swear, that man deserves himself an Oscar for outstanding acting. I never even suspected. – But, in my defence, who'd ever suspect such a thing?_

* * *

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Guest-Commenter ... I don't speak french, really, but I think I got the gist of it. Thanks!_

 _Now, let's jump out of the notbook into real life ... I hope you'll accept this bit as well as you did the diary. Here goes, have fun!  
_

* * *

"Hey, Frankie, whatcha doin?"

Frankie jumped, quickly slamming his notebook shut. "Murdock! Don't do that again!"

"Or what?" Murdock asked amiably. "You gonna tickle me?"

"I'll tell BA." – _'What a lousy threat. Like BA is really bothered by Murdock teasing me.'_

Murdock simply grinned, knowing the threat was empty just like Frankie did. "No really, what are you doing?"

"Just... writing..." Frankie begrudgingly admitted.

"I saw that. What is it? Letter home?"

"No just... sort of a diary."

"Can I have a read?" Murdock's grin turned a notch meaner. "I bet it's about us... me... Or you wouldn't have slapped it shut so quickly. How do I get away?"

"It's not about you!" Frankie tried to deny the obvious.

"No?" Murdock teased, enjoying himself greatly.

"Leave the man alone, Fool," BA admonished calmly from his table.

"Aww, you're no fun, Big Guy." But Murdock did as told and strolled away.

Frankie watched him with suspicious eyes. Murdock was not beyond snatching his notebook and... He'd never do that with his team mates, but Frankie wasn't a team mate. Murdock would do it, and if only to annoy him. – Not that he could read any of it, Frankie's handwriting was so bad, he sometimes had trouble reading it himself. On the other hand, Murdock was full of surprises, so probably he would be able to read it. And... had BA just come to his rescue?

"Dinner's ready in five minutes! So get ready and wash your hands, kids!" Hannibal announced cheerily from the kitchen door before he disappeared again.

Face had entered at Hannibal's last words. He hung his head, and then, with a pained voice asked, "Hannibal didn't cook, did he?"

BA nodded.

"Who the hell let him?"

"You try stop him next time," BA muttered.

"And tell me before you do," Murdock joined, "'cause I'd really like to watch that with some popcorn."

"Aw, the only thing Hannibal can cook is turkey," Face whined.

"Very fine turkey," Murdock said.

"Yeah, but **nothing** **else**."

"I'm with you there," Frankie dared to speak up. His run-in with Murdock about his diary should be safely forgotten by now.

"Ah, at least one man with common sense in this house." Face came over to sit with him. He cast a quick look at the notebook and the pen, Frankie still held in his hand. "Writing home?"

"Ah..."

"No, he's keeping a diary," Murdock obligingly offered. "On us."

"No!" Frankie protested again.

"Then why don't you let me have a look? I know it, you're writing a whole lot of nasty things about me." Murdock grinned at him widely, a challenge in his eyes. Murdock was out for a fight, it seemed.

"It's just my private thoughts. Of course you appear in it here and there... Just natural."

"So, we **are** in it! You lied." Murdock pointed at Frankie accusingly, with a look of triumph in his eyes.

"Murdock, give him a break! Wouldn't you write about him if you kept a diary?" Face jumped to Frankie's rescue.

Murdock pushed his lower lip forward. "Suppose so. But I'd let him read it."

"Sure you would," Face muttered, so only Frankie could hear it.

 _'_ _Thank you, Face.'_

* * *

 _Well,_ _ **that**_ _went well... This evening was just awful. Murdock was awful. I don't know what it is between him and me. Okay, rephrase: I don't know what sort of problem he has with me. It can't still be because of Stockwell, Murdock's not that unforgiving. So what is it? Maybe I should simply become suicidal and ask him? Only problem with that is: Whenever he's here, the others are too. I just can't catch him alone, and I really don't want the others to overhear this. This is just between him and me. Maybe I should take lessons from Face about how to sneak off the compound. He seems to do it effortlessly... Then I could go over to Murdock's place, or to whatever joint he works at at the moment._

A knock at his door disturbed Frankie. He closed his book and, sitting up, stuck it under his pillow. "Yeah?"

"Can I come in?" Face stuck his head through the door.

"Sure." Frankie sat up and made an inviting gesture. He still felt like an outsider and therefore was thankful for every friendly approach from any one of the team. "What's up?"

"Ah, I've come to apologize..."

"What?!" Good lord, has he gone crazy now?

"Yeah, about Murdock... for Murdock. He doesn't mean it."

"No? Well maybe you don't know him all too well, because he **does** mean it. Every word. He doesn't like me."

"No, that's not true." Face was pulling a chair over to the bed and sat down.

"No? Face, I'm not a genius, but you don't have to be a genius to realize that."

"He's jealous of you."

"Huh?" Frankie's jaw dropped. "Why... Why would he be jealous of me? What in the world do I have he would want? He's got you guys, he's got those talents, he's got brains, creativity... looks. His hair isn't quite what it could be, but the rest..."

Face smirked for just a moment. "It sounds kind of showy, but we are the most important thing in Murdock's life. He doesn't share us easily. He doesn't hate Stockwell just because he tricked us. He hates him, because he has to share us with him. On a certain level, anyway. And it's even worse with you. You share your every day life with us. **You** do. **You** live here in this house with us. He doesn't. He knows Hannibal likes you, I like you, BA likes you. He even likes you himself, but you have the one thing, he can't have: us, 24/7. He fears he misses out on something."

"He's a moron. You share more with him in five minutes than with me in twenty-four hours."

"Is that what it says in your diary?" Face asked sympathetically.

Frankie was surprised Face brought up his diary, and even more surprised by Face's sympathetic tone. "What's all that hang-up with my diary?" he asked the easier of the two questions on his mind. "Don't you guys keep anything to yourself?"

Face smiled. "Well, we try to, now and again. But basically, we know everything there is to know about each other. Everything that counts."

"Even about you?" Frankie had no idea, where that question had come from, but he was very curious about the answer anyway. Face seemed to be a pretty cryptic person. Hannibal was private, Face was... privatest... the word to describe it properly had not yet been invented.

"There's not so much to know about me. Disappointingly little, as a matter of fact."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"What do you want to know? I'm an open book. And you know, I wouldn't tell you anything the guys don't know already."

"Yeah, I know." Frankie didn't conceal the bitterness in his voice. Sometimes it just stung to be only half a member.

"Oh..." Face looked down for a moment. "That didn't come out quite as I meant it."

"But it's true. It's okay, though. I know it can't be helped. It's Vietnam. You've been there, all four of you, together... And I've been hanging around in highschool, my biggest concern being how I could skip a few lessons."

"That's good. Highschool's good."

Face's voice told Frankie, that he'd hit a sore spot. "Not when others are –"

"What, getting killed? Killing?" Face interrupted heatedly, and glared at Frankie. "You were what? Thirteen? Fourteen? No business being in a war or making your life miserable, thinking about it. Nam ties bonds, true, but that's not worth it. Bonds can be tied in a million ways. So stop talking shit."

Frankie swallowed. He'd never heard Face talk like that, neither the tone of voice, nor the use of the word "shit". "I didn't mean it like that. It's just..."

"You were a kid." Face's tone had softened, making him sound more like himself again.

"Sometimes I feel like I still am."

Face laughed softly. "Yeah, sometimes..."

"Thank you." Frankie stuck his tongue out at Face.

"Like now..."

"You're a pest."

"You too." Face got up. "Don't worry about Murdock. He'll come around." And he left.

Frankie looked at the closed door for a moment, before he reached under his pillow, flopped down onto his bed and went back to scribbling.

 _Face just left. "Murdock'll come around." Great help there, Face! Murdock will not come around. Especially not if what you told me is true: If he is jealous of me... Then there's no way he'll ever get around. I'll always be the itch he can't scratch._

Frankie snapped the notebook shut. Time to catch some sleep.

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Guest-Commenter: Hope google translator works for you. And thank you for dropping another note._

 _Third and final part ... hope it entertains._

* * *

"Hey, Frankie."

Frankie looked up from his part of the morning paper. Not that he was so terribly interested in it, but it was still better than Murdock's company. "Morning, Murdock. What're you doing here this time of the day?" Ouch, wrong start. Hopefully Murdock didn't mistake this as a complaint, because that's not what it was. It was mere puzzlement.

"Searching coffee," Murdock answered evenly. Apparently he took Frankie's question the right way. "This today's paper?"

Frankie looked at the paper in his hands. "Well, part of it, anyway. If you want the interesting parts, you better go search somewhere else. BA's got the sports pages, Johnny has politics, Face the financial pages... not that I care much about those." Frankie pulled a face.

"Okay, let me see... sports, politics, finances." Murdock stretched out a finger with each word. "So what else is there in a newspaper?" he strolled over, and plucked the pages from Frankie's hands. "Culture... Or what they call culture round here... Nah, keep it." Murdock handed it back.

"Why, thank you," Frankie mouthed, hidden from Murdock's view behind his regained paper.

"You got some sugar hidden anywhere?" Murdock asked, after he'd poured himself some coffee and milk.

"Ah..." Frankie looked up, suddenly realising that this was the opportunity to become suicidal he'd been waiting for: him and Murdock alone. "Murdock, can I ask you something?"

Murdock halted in his animated search for sugar and looked at Frankie, awareness in his eyes as well as some sort of don't-fuck-with-me-buddy-cause-you'll-only-regret-it-alertness

Well, Frankie had seen tougher situations. He'd survived East-Berlin and San Marcos. He had survived Murdock in the courthouse during the trial. He could survive this. "About yesterday..."

"I wasn't exactly being nice, I know." Murdock didn't sound overly apologetic, though.

"That's not it." Frankie cleared his throat. "I don't want you to apologize or anything." 'Face already did that for you...' And Frankie had to suppress a sudden smile. If only Murdock knew that. "I just want to put a thing or two straight between us."

Now Murdock was really surprised, this was not Frankie's usual tone with him, after all. So he pulled up one eyebrow and sat down opposite of Frankie.

"Well, you're not going to pretend that things between us are fine, are you?"

Murdock, still with that surprised look, shook his head.

"And I dare say it's not entirely my fault –"

"You were in it with Stockwell." Murdock's voice was icy and fiery.

"Well, I only have this one father. Forgive me if I want the best for him."

"This discussion is old, we've had it over and over." Murdock attempted to get up.

"Wait! I'm not angry with you for being angry with me for that. I mean, I understand that, I really do."

"I wonder..." Murdock quipped coldly, but sat back down.

"Never mind. It's something else..." Okay, and how to proceed from there? Frankie rubbed his eyes. Oh, why didn't he just hand Murdock a knife, and tell him to ram it into his chest? Wouldn't that be a lot simpler?

"So, what is it? My coffee's getting cold."

 _Jump right in, Frankie, it's only ice-water with sharks in it..._ "You don't have to be jealous of me."

"WHAT?!"

Frankie dropped his head. "I know you'd like to spend more time with the team, live here with them like I do. But I'd swap with you anytime."

"Including fourteen years in the loony-bin?"

Frankie looked up. Where the hell had that come from? Oh, yeah. Man's crazy.

"Frankie, I'm not jealous of you."

"Face thinks you are." Oh good, make it even worse while you're at it, Frankie-boy, why don't you?

"Face?" Murdock sounded winded. He hadn't counted with that.

"He... Yesterday, after you've been gone, he came to me... tried to... make me feel a bit better, I guess."

"About what I did," Murdock caught on.

Frankie shrugged with a conforming sound.

"Well..." Murdock said noncommittally into the silent kitchen.

"He –" Frankie started, but got interrupted by Murdock.

"He thinks I can't stand it that you have them around all hours of the day when I don't?"

"Ah... yeah."

"He's wrong."

Frankie's time to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Face thinks that, because it's what he'd feel in my position. I won't deny that I'd like to spend more time with the guys, but what can't be, can't be. I'll even admit that I was picking on you yesterday because I was frustrated about this. I'm human, I'm not perfect. But things will change, and if I have to make them change personally." Murdock was pointing an accusing finger right into Frankie's face for a moment. "I think, if he intended to make you feel better, he also told you that we all like you," he then said slyly, dropping his finger, reaching for his cup.

Frankie nodded. Yep, those guys really knew each other inside out. Even if – provided, Murdock was right – they drew the wrong conclusions sometimes.

"It's true, we do."

"Excepting you," Frankie objected.

"No, including me."

Huh? Frankie resisted the urge to look around for the hidden camera.

"You're a nice enough guy, and I don't hold anything against you," Murdock continued.

"Oh, no?" Frankie did nothing to stop the sarcasm rushing out with the two words.

"No. Even you teaming up with Stockwell. I still don't like it, but I can see why you did it. You made an understandable if bad decision in a very bad situation."

"But you don't forgive me," Frankie threw in.

"I... I don't know if I do." Murdock sounded very subdued with that confession. "However, it's beside the point. Whether I forgive you for that or not is my private issue."

"Oh?" Frankie jumped off his seat. "Well, forgive me if I have a different opinion on that one. I am sorry for what I did. I can't say I wouldn't do it again, because he **is** **my** **father**. But I **am** sorry. And it matters pretty much to me whether I have unresolved business with somebody."

"Ah, in that case..." Murdock gave Frankie a small smile. "I'm prepared to forgive you."

"Just like that?" Frankie felt like he'd just hit an invisible wall, head on, that had suddenly grown out of thin air in the middle of the kitchen.

"Well, I'm a forgiving person."

"Yeah, only took you... what, two months?"

Murdock shrugged. "Never knew it bothered you so much."

"Well, it does. I like people liking me."

"Who doesn't?" Murdock said, more to himself than to Frankie. Or probably just to the table, or his cup, or an elf that just popped up in his imagination. "What I don't like about you," he continued in a calm but serious tone, "is something you can't help: You are not on par with us. I know how arrogant that sounds, but we are good at what we're doing, very good."

"Extremely good."

Murdock grinned for a moment and wiggled his head. "If you say so, my friend..." But then he turned serious again. "Nevertheless, you are in this with us. We have to put up with what you have to offer, which is not bad, but not as good as it should be."

Frankie considered complaining, but then, Murdock only spoke the truth.

"But you're improving, and one day you'll be with us... maybe." Murdock fell silent and finally took a drink from his coffee. "Wah! No sugar **and** cold..."

"So you don't like me being the dirt spot on your shiny A-Team?" Frankie tried to sum up what Murdock had just told him.

"What? No!" Murdock put down his cup forcefully. "What I don't like is that we have to work with you when you could kill us. Not intentionally, mind you, but simply because you lack the experience. I don't like anything that endangers my friends."

Frankie felt a cold shiver running down his spine. It was a perverted – and short-lived – rush of ecstasy, to think that he had the power to endanger the A-Team. From the inside out, but still. "I'm doing my best," he said.

"I know. We all know that. But you still have a way to go." Murdock took another sip of his coffee, not complaining this time.

"But I won't walk that way any faster if you keep picking on me." Frankie wasn't through with the topic yet.

Murdock lowered his eyes for just a moment. "Yeah. I'll be a better boy from now on." He got up, and lifted his cup in a toasting motion, before he left the kitchen.

* * *

 _Murdock's done it again, teasing me. I guess he can't help himself. But I gotta grant him that: he's trying. He's really trying to get along with me. He's doing a pretty good job at it, too. Most of the time we're cool with each other. But probably ignoring each other does help with that. However, sometimes, we're actually having fun together. (He even called me muchacho once! Woohoo, where's the fireworks?) The missions are going better now as well, smoother._

 _Look at me... writing about how "missions go". I guess, Murdock was right, I'm getting better at what I'm doing. Maybe, when this is over... I guess I can't just go back to F/X. It_ _ **is**_ _kind of boring, like Johnny said. – Still can't bring myself to call him Hannibal, but I suspect that'll come, just like everything else._

 _I'm afraid, I caught a bad case of "The Jazz". It's a thrill, chasing the bad guys, making a difference. Knowing you're on the right side of the line (mostly, anyway, what with Stockwell and all...). Knowing that what you do is of significance. If I blow up a car for a movie... so what? Anybody could do that. Maybe not quite as gracefully as I can, but who cares for grace with an exploding car anyway? But doing what I'm doing with the guys, that's different. I know there are only a few out there who could do that. (I'm proud of myself, yes.) I'm still not in their league, but it's awfully encouraging and motivating that Murdock should think I could get there one day... "maybe". I can make it if he says so, because he would not lie to me. And, when you think about it, Johnny must think the same thing, or he wouldn't put up with me. I've seen sides of that man I haven't known before. Johnny only does what he thinks is right, and what he thinks works. He's not the wacky monster-man like he's made everybody believe. He's... leader of the A-Team. That about says it all._

 _Once this Stockwell-disaster is over with, we'll most probably part, go our different ways. Staying in contact nonetheless, I hope. But no matter what, I will keep up this line of work, somehow. Going bounty hunting, maybe, just something to remain on the right side of the line and doing something significant._

 _Johnny's right. The Jazz is a bitch._

* * *

 _END_


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